


your lovesick melody (is gonna get the best of me tonight)

by yangaf



Category: Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: F/F, They're In Love Your Honor, harlivy - Freeform, takes place in the HQ animated series!!, they're dumb, they're gay, this was not beta'd OOP!, tldr: ivy realizes she's in love with harley but is too gay to see that harley's flirting with her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24124471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yangaf/pseuds/yangaf
Summary: Ivy realizes that she’s in love with Harley in stages.  Each is more profound than the last.
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 17
Kudos: 478





	your lovesick melody (is gonna get the best of me tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> it's 4 am and i'm gay. have these funky little lesbians

It always just sat in the back of her mind- the way Harley’s eyes crinkle when she laughs, the way her hips move when she walks, the chisel of her jaw, the definition of her cheekbones. The fullness of her lips. The bright blue of her eyes.

Ivy has always recognized that, objectively, Harley is attractive. Very attractive. Other people thought so, too- the sleazy henchmen of B-list villains at clubs they went to, men and women doing double-takes on the street when Harley forgoed her usual makeup occasionally, and the waiters that Harley flirts shamelessly with when she’s in the mood for dessert on the house.

The first time Ivy sees Harley without her makeup on- no eyeshadow, no lipstick, and her hair cascading down her back, Ivy feels paralyzed.

Harley is _beautiful_.

She comes out from her room in a bathrobe and bright pink slippers on. Her hair is cascading down her back in thick, full, blonde waves, stopping just below her shoulder blades. Her skin is porcelain and pristine; glowing and ever smooth. Without her eyeshadow on, her eyelashes are thick and dark, curling slightly upward into the fullness of her eyelids. Her eyes are a clearer, brighter blue, contrasting against the rosy pink of her lips. Harley’s cheekbones and jawline are sharper without makeup, her cheekbones casting slight shadows on her face under the dim lighting. The button of her nose seems impossibly cuter. And when Harley sees Ivy in the kitchen, she smiles and her white teeth light up the room.

“Hey, Ives!” Harley greets, sliding close against Ivy’s side at the stove. “Whatcha cookin?”

Ivy exhales the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I, uh…” she falters briefly, breathing in the scent of Harley’s shampoo as she leans closer to look inside the pan. “Chicken parm. Thought you’d be hungry, or whatever.” Harley grins.

  
“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” Harley smiles. “My mom used to make me chicken parm when I was a kid. It was my favorite.” As she speaks, the smile on Harley’s face grows dimmer. 

Ivy furrows her eyebrows- she’s never really spoken about her parents, her family, or the life before her life of crime. She’s known Harley since before her life of crime, when she was a young and optimistic psychiatrist. But what she knows of Harley’s life before her stint at Arkham is small. She’s seen a few old pictures in moving boxes of Harley in undergrad, the occasional first place gymnastics trophy. Sometimes, when she’s extremely bored, Ivy can find Harley sprawled out on the couch, loudly critiquing the form of young gymnasts at competitions on her laptop. 

Ivy doesn’t want to push the envelope, so she chooses her next words carefully.

“Yeah? Well, I bet I can make chicken parm better than your mom. I saw Rachel Ray do this recipie while you were out, and she fuckin’ nailed it,” Ivy laughs, hoping to cheer Harley from the slight dip in her demeanor.

Thankfully, Harley smiles, throws back her head, and lets out a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, Ives, I bet you can. My ma was a shitty fucking cook. She used to rub two noodles together and call it spaghetti,” she chuckles, waltzing away from the stove and into the living room. She throws herself on the couch and grabs the remote from the coffee table.

“Wanna watch Gossip Girl?” she asks lazily, swinging her head in the direction of the kitchen.

Ivy smiles, grateful that memories of her past haven’t put a dim on Harley’s mood. “Yeah,” she breathes, grabbing tongs and putting the chicken onto a plate. “Sounds good. Don’t start without me.”

“Don’t be silly. You know I would never.”

“Um, you fucking bitch. Netflix showed me that you watched three episodes on Wednesday without me,” Ivy teases, settling down next to Harley on the couch. 

She sets the plate down on the coffee table, and the second it’s out of her hands, Harley is snuggling into her side. Ivy’s heart jumps into her throat and her body stills.

Harley, ever observant, notices. “What’s wrong?” she pouts, looking up at Ivy. “A girl can’t snuggle with her best friend?”

 _You can_ , Ivy thinks vacantly as Harley wraps one arm around her shoulders and one around her waist, ignoring the way her heart drops when she hears ‘best friend’.

 _But that’s all you are, right?_ Ivy ponders, staring down at Harley’s sleek blonde hair. _My best friend. I wouldn’t let anyone but my best friend get this close to me._

But Ivy knows, deep in the back of her mind, that it’s not true. When she was in elementary school, or middle school, or even in her undergrad years, she had her fair share of friends. It’s not that she hates people, per say- she hates the idea of letting someone in and being hurt, like she has been again, and again, and again. _Father_ and _Jason_ echo in her mind, and Ivy is quick to push down those thoughts. She had always been hesitant to let _anyone_ in close to her, really, but she knows that she considered a handful of people her closest friend, at one point. In a different time, maybe, in a different reality.

But Harley, on every level, is _so_ much different.

The difference between Harley and other people in Ivy’s life is not that Harley has never hurt her. The difference between Harley and other people is that Harley _tries_.

Ivy recognized, at one point at the beginning of their friendship, that Harley was a deeply flawed individual. Through bits and pieces of information that she has learned about Harley’s childhood and personal experiences, Ivy has pieced together that Harley, too, has been wronged by too many people in her life that got too close. Her parents. Past boyfriends and girlfriends. Allies. _Him_. But without any apologies given to her for the wrongs that have been committed against her, Harley understands the difference between an empty promise and a genuine attempt of gaining back someone’s trust.

After leaving her to her own devices in favor of spending time with the Joker, Ivy had never been hurt by Harley like she was then. Ivy, in her adapted cynical nature, was fully expecting Harley to continue her actions after her apology. But when Harley, beaten and bruised from fighting off assassins and her own father’s attempt on her life, came to her rescue when she was kidnapped by Scarecrow, Ivy realized, for the first time in her life, that there was a person who cared about her who actually _wanted_ to try to do better by her.

And sure, it was a bit hard at first to open back up to Harley. A high-speed car chase, the demolition of her own statue, and a tearful hug from Harley, at first, seemed to Ivy like theatrics, meant to free Harley of her own guilt of knowingly wronging her. But Harley’s attempt at reparations didn’t end there.

After that ordeal, Ivy could not name a single instance since then where Harley was not present for Ivy when she needed her. Whether it be plotting to break into a cruelty cosmetics factory, needing help opening a jar of peanut butter, or even just needing a partner to spar with in order to relieve the day’s stress, Harley was there. 

And Ivy saw, over time, how Harley tried for her, tooth and nail. She realizes that indubitably, Harley is _different_.

Ivy asks herself much later in the night, long after Harley’s passed out on the couch in the middle of their marathon, why she was hoping that Harley would say anything besides ‘best friend’.

  
  


* * *

When Harley moved in, Ivy expected it to be a living hell. 

At first, it was. 

Harley never picked up after herself, came and left at odd hours, and broke more than 1 of her flat screen TVs. It drove Ivy almost to the brink of insanity- she adored Harley and cared for her more than she let on at the time, but it nearly became unbearable. 

Soon, though, Harley started to adapt to life with Ivy. Clean dishes drying on the rack. Shoes left at the door. Dinner- shockingly- made on the days Ivy was out late, either protesting or working to take down another capitalist organization hell bent on polluting what little Gotham had left.

It was only a few weeks into this routine, seeing Harley doing something so mundane as wiping off dirt from the counter near one of Ivy’s plants, that Ivy realized that the little things Harley did to help Ivy around the apartment made her heart swell. She felt it beat a little faster whenever she reminded Psycho to take off his shoes and Clayface to put _on_ shoes when they came into the apartment. 

Tonight, the routine is the same.

The boys stampede Ivy’s apartment for dinner, Harley harasses them into complying with the apartment rules and yells at Frank to not eat the silverware during dinner. Ivy’s heart swells.

Harley is, Ivy quickly discovers, an incredible cook. Harley credits it to having lived alone for two years in undergrad, during her masters, and during her Ph.D, but Ivy tells her that she’s smart and can do anything she puts her mind to. Always, Harley huffs and smiles softly. She was not expecting Harley’s risotto to taste as good as it did the first time she cooked for the both of them, but Ivy remembers the moan she let out at the first bite and Harley’s cute smile when she asked, ‘ _Yeah, babe? It’s good, right?’_

Tonight, due to the amount of guests, Harley is cooking everything from scratch. Macaroni and cheese, pasta with an italian name that Ivy forgets, and a Jewish dessert that Harley steals every time they go to the grocery store. The menu, while mismatching and unorthodox, screams Harley, and Ivy is more than glad to let her cook and be happy.

“Ives,” Harley calls, pulling her away from her conversation with Frank. “I need a second opinion. Come and taste this.” 

Ivy stands from the couch and saunters over to the kitchen, where Harley is sporting an apron that says ‘FUCK THE CHEF’ while surrounded by an array of seasonings.

“What’s up?” Ivy asks, pushing down the thoughts that race in the back of her mind as she reads the apron.

“I need you to try the babka. I think I might have fucked it up a little bit.” Before Ivy can grab a spoon, however, Harley dips her finger into the dish and steps closer to Ivy, standing toe-to-toe with her. “Open wide.”

Ivy feels her mind go blank as Harley gently grabs the underside of her jaw and places her finger in her mouth. Ivy stands, just for a second, unmoving, before Harley chuckles softly and says, “Suck it _off_ , sweetheart.”

It takes all of her strength to not let her knees buckle at Harley’s words. She wraps her lips around Harley’s finger and sucks, gently, tasting sweetness and flavor and _Harley_ in her mouth. She swirls her tongue around the point of Harley’s finger and doesn’t miss the way Harley’s eyes go hooded at the motion. 

_Is she enjoying this just as much as Ivy is?_

But before she can think about taking more of her finger into her mouth, Harley pulls her finger away gently with a soft _pop_ before, to both Ivy’s pleasure and displeasure, places the finger in her own mouth.

Ivy feels a burning heat surge inside of her as Harley lets out a small groan and closes her eyes. She stands for a minute, inches away from Ivy’s face, sucking on her finger, before she opens her eyes and releases it. Harley smiles up at her slowly, lazily, _dangerously_ , and Ivy melts.

“So, is it good, baby?” Harley asks, batting her eyes at her. And for once, Ivy does not feel at a loss for words. Instead, she dares to inch closer to Harley, emboldened by the heat running through her.

“It tastes really, _really_ fucking good.”

Silently, Ivy relishes in the way Harley’s eyes flutter at her words. She takes a step back and slides past Harley, grabbing her bottle of water that was left there earlier. Harley remains glued to her spot, only turning slightly to follow Ivy’s movement.

“But _honey_ ,” she drawls, as playfully as she can. “What’s with all the pet names all of a sudden?”

Harley, finally, turns fully towards Ivy. “Why, whatever do you mean by that?” she shoots back playfully, _cocky_ , and Ivy smirks.

“It used to just be ‘Ives’. But now it’s babe, honey, sweetheart, or baby. You want me to be your baby?” Ivy croons, dipping her voice lower. Ivy takes a step forward towards Harley, and Harley tilts her chin up at her.

“A girl can’t call her best friend some cute nicknames?” Harley tries, meeting Ivy’s eyes. Ivy lets out a laugh.

“A girl can call her girlfriend those cute nicknames, babe,” Ivy says, but as soon as she finishes her sentence, she sees a bright red flush appear on Harley’s cheeks. Harley takes a small step back and casts her eyes to the side.

After a moment of silence, and multiple thoughts running through Ivy’s mind that _she said something wrong, what should she do, what did she say that-_ Harley finally speaks.

“Girlfriend, huh?” she whispers, her voice slightly higher than it was before. But before Ivy can react, King Shark appears in her vision.

“Can y’all stop eye fucking for two seconds so we can eat? We’re fucking starving,” he complains, holding a hand over his stomach. 

Harley is the first to react. She steps away from Ivy quickly and suddenly, her hands going behind her back to loosen the knot of her apron.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, pushing past Ivy to get to the oven. “Dinner’s ready.”

It takes Ivy a few moments to recompose herself. When they’re sitting in the living room, laughing and swapping stories of missions gone wrong, Ivy’s mind keeps drifting back to the kitchen.

_What the fuck was that?_

* * *

Ivy has the worst fucking timing of anyone she’s ever met.

She’s halfway into Harley’s bedroom door frame and saying “Hey, Harls, did you see Tawny’s post about that blind kid who did a fu-” when she looks up.

Every ounce of heat rushes to Ivy’s face when she sees Harley.

When Harley finally got settled into the apartment, she set up a gymnastics ring set in the middle of her room, hanging haphazardly from the ceiling on a hook. _For old times sake_ , she remembers Harley chiming as Ivy looked wearily at the rings and metal scattered across her room. _I was fucking stellar in college. But you’ve seen me fight, Ives- I can move like a motherfucker. How am I supposed to keep kicking ass if I can’t practice?_

Ivy remembers not having a snarky comment for that surprisingly logical response.

But now, Harley- clad in nothing but a tight sports bra and short Nike Pros, and completely makeup free- is hanging upside down on the rings, her legs tight and high in the air. The muscles in her arms and abdomen tense with the strain of holding her body up.

Harley tilts her head up at the sudden noise and locks her eyes with Ivy. The smile that she gives her sends blood rushing to Ivy’s cheeks.

“Hey, Ives! Sorry-” Harley swings her legs forward and lets go of the rings. She catches herself when her body is centered again, and swiftly drops to the ground with a small thud. She exhales sharply and bends down to pick up her water bottle and towel, removes the hair tie from her hair, and lets her blonde waves cascade down her shoulders.

“- Sorry. What were you saying? Some blind kid? Poor fella,” Harley says, but her eyes are still shining with adrenaline, and her toned body is glistening with sweat.

Ivy’s mouth is too dry to swallow.

She knew Harley was attractive, yes, but this… is new territory for Ivy. Completely.

Ivy is vaguely aware of Harley’s mouth moving and her voice filtering through her head when she dares to cast her eyes downward at Harley’s body. Harley’s arms are still red from exertion, but defined with muscle that accentuate her slim collarbones. Ivy feels her eyes go hooded at the sight of Harley’s toned stomach and defined obliques, accented by her shapely hipbones and the dip above her navel. Harley’s leaning most of her body weight on her right side, and her exposed inner thighs tighten their muscles in order to support her.

Ivy thinks she might be having an out of body experience.

“... Wanna do a fucking story on those horny kids from TikTok. But it’s like, she used to be a real journalist- why is she doing bullshit fucking fluff pieces- hello?” Ivy blinks and looks up as fast as she can, hoping that Harley did not catch her in the middle of her dazed staring.

Harley smiles wickedly. _Fuck_.

“So, did you come in here to actually show me something, or did you come in here because you wanted a nicer view than the one outside?” Harley asks, her voice dipping dangerously low. Ivy’s face erupts with heat.

“No, I- uh. I. No, I wanted to, uh, the Tawny thing- uh, fucking… the… VIDEO!” Ivy finally yells, too loud and too suspiciously. Harley arches an eyebrow.

“The fucking, uh, video. Thought you might think it was cool. So. Uh,” Ivy shoves her unlocked phone towards Harley. “Here.” 

She averts her eyes, hoping that Harley doesn’t catch on to the fact that her blush has spread to her ears.

Unfortunately for Ivy, not a lot can go over the head of someone with a Ph.D in psychology.

“Aw, baby,” Harley croons, and Ivy feels heat rush to her lower body and her knees wobble when she hears ‘baby’. “... You could have just texted me the link, you know?”

 _Fuck my life._ Harley giggles.

“I. uh…. You know, Harley, being on your phone too much is really bad for- HEY!” Ivy huffs in frustration when Harley’s giggle erupts into full-blown laughter. “Dude, fuck off!”

But Ivy can’t be mad at Harley, not in the slightest. Especially if she keeps laughing the way she is now- a full smile, eyes crinkled, and her face flushed.

“Babe!” Harley sighs, suppressing the rest of her laughter, “I was just fucking with you!” She takes a gulp from the water bottle in hand, runs the towel across her face, and throws it over her shoulder. 

“It’s like you’ve never seen a hot girl before. But trust me,” Harley winks, and Ivy wants to sink into the floor, “I know what I’m working with. Show me the video of the blind kid.”

Ivy tries not to tremble when Harley, sweaty and gorgeous, stands a bit too close to Ivy in order to watch the screen. The blind child in the video does a kickflip on a skateboard too big for him, and Ivy finds herself rolling her eyes fondly at the quiet _‘fuck yeah’_ that Harley mutters under her breath. When the video ends, Harley smiles up at Ivy.

“I love shit like that,” she says, “it kind of just reminds me that even though some of us are working with different equipment, we can still do the same shit as other people.” Ivy, slightly floored by the unexpected sentiment behind Harley’s words, can only smile weakly.

Harley giggles again. “You’re still red, Red,” she teases, poking gently at one of Ivy’s cheeks. Ivy moves her hand up to playfully swat Harley’s hand away.

“Am not,” she grumbles. “Although, I might get you a sign for your door that tells me when you’re half naked before I barge in.” At this, Harley cackles.

“Like that’s gonna stop you from coming in anyway. Ives, my daily outfit is basically me just being half fucking naked. But,” Harley leanes in dangerously close and casts her eyes downwards. Ivy’s breath, against her will, hitches. 

“If you ever want a real show, you know my room’s open twenty-four seven.” Harley leans back and smiles goofily. “We can _finally_ fucking finish Gossip Girl! That’s a _real_ good show.”

But Ivy is still rooted to her spot, still thinking about how close Harley was just moments ago- how she could feel Harley’s breath on her cheek, how she could count Harley’s eyelashes, how she was _just_ close enough to-

“Also, maybe don’t tell Chuck that you were horny for me. I know he’s an ally, or whatever, but,” Harley’s nose wrinkles, “I don’t think he’d fuck with that.” 

There’s an underlying tone to Harley’s voice, but Ivy doesn’t think her mind is able to function well enough to pick up on it at the moment.

Her mind is, however, working well enough to allow Ivy to shoot back a snarky remark against Harley’s comment that she was horny for her- _which, of course, she absolutely was-_ and usually, Harley’s answering laugh would have been at the forefront of her mind when she left her room.

But now, there are only two things at the front of Ivy’s mind.

The first: _I think I love Harley._

The second: _Oh, fuck. Chuck._

* * *

It’s not that Ivy forgot about Chuck. It’s just that, as of late, Ivy’s mind has been on more pressing matters than her fiance. Helping the crew, plotting the downfall of anti-eco corporations, trying not to think about Harley every two seconds- those are all things that take up a lot of Ivy’s time, energy, and mental capacity.

But the fact of the matter remains this: Ivy is engaged. And she feels like she’s losing her fucking mind.

“I can’t take it anymore. I just don’t know what to fucking do, man,” Ivy moans, burying her head in her arms. 

Selina, sitting across from her in the coffee shop, blinks. She takes a sip from the straw in her iced coffee, looking wholly unamused.

“You two are the biggest fucking idiots I have ever met in my god damn life,” she declares, popping the straw out of her mouth. Ivy looks up.

“Come again?”

“You. The two of you. You and Harley. Idiots. I swear to god.”

“Selina, I just sat down. You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

“I’ll take a crack, then. You’re suddenly realizing that the feelings you have for Harley may be more than just platonic, and because you’re fucking _dense,_ you have no clue what to do about it because _for some damn reason,_ you only just realized it?” Ivy blinks in surprise.

“I… okay, yes.” Ivy sits up straight again, narrowing her eyes at Selina. “So, what should I do about it?” Selina rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her coffee.

“Well, for one, don’t marry that D-tier shit-show of a _fiancé_ that you have. He’s stupid and he smells like shit,” she says, setting her drink down.

“Next,” Selina continues casually, twirling the straw in her cup, “tell Harley how you feel. I mean it. Be straight with her. I know she’ll appreciate it, and it’s the best thing to do. But Ivy, honey, I have to ask: what the _fuck_ did you see in fucking _Kiteman?”_

Chuck is nice. Generally, he’s a nice guy. Sure, he’s goofy. He may be a bit stupid. He’s not a very good villain. But he cares for Ivy, that much she can see. He is devoted to her, he loves her, and he’s there for her in his own strange way.

But all of the things that Ivy likes about Chuck, she likes even more in Harley. 

While Chuck is nice, Harley is charming and utterly kind. She stops to pet puppies, she coos over babies, and she apologizes to the plants that she doesn’t say good morning to in their apartment. She is considerate in a way that leaves Ivy swooning on the mornings that she’s up before her, opening the blinds of the apartment windows for her plants because she _‘Didn’t hear your alarm go off, Ives!’_. She’s charming in the sense that within five minutes of a real conversation, anyone can see that Harley is funny and genuine.

Chuck is goofy, but Harley is, well, a goof. Chuck is clumsy and awkward, more often than not, but Harley is the exact opposite. Naturally, she is graceful and attentive, most likely attributed to her years of competitive gymnastics and a rigorous Ph.D program. But Harley still purposely makes shitty jokes that leave Ivy chuckling for days. Within just a few days of knowing her, Ivy was able to pick up that Harley would do quite literally anything to make someone laugh. She’s wicked with one-liners, can use any object as a prop, and has the prettiest smile when she finally makes Ivy laugh.

Chuck may not be a very bright man, but Harley shines brighter than anyone Ivy has ever met. Harley has bounced back from every possible scenario life has thrown at her and gotten herself out of impossible situations without little to no help. Harley is quick-witted and incredibly sharp- something Ivy learned the second she figured out how to get past Harley’s ‘drunken ideas’ phase. Harley is fast on her feet and even faster in danger, able to wiggle herself and her crew out of life-or-death situations with that big, beautiful brain of hers. 

Harley has been beaten, used, and broken by the people she loved the most in her life. Her parents, her friends, _him_. But what amazes Ivy is that with just the slightest push, Harley has the ability to steer herself on to the best possible path forward with a resolve that astonishes her. She has the ability to not only let herself make mistakes, but learn from them and make up for them. And every time, Ivy has seen her do so with a smile on her face and a genuine heart.

“Hello?” Ivy snaps back to reality. Selina is waving her hand in front of Ivy’s face, her eyes wide. “Jesus. It looked like you were coming.”

Ivy huffs. “I wasn’t fucking coming. I was thinking.” Selina chuckles.

“About Harley?”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, I could tell from the look on your face that it wasn’t about fuckin’ Kiteman.”

“He’s got, like a real name, you know,” Ivy mutters. “Fuck. I should have ended things with him a long time ago. I just didn’t want to hurt him, you know? He’s so nice.”

Selina nods. “No, yeah I get that. But, I mean, now you’re fucking marrying the guy. So you’re a bit past going back to that stage.” She leans forward and rests her chin on the palm of her hand, raising her eyebrows. 

“But, let me ask you this: Would you rather have a girlfriend who’s been in love with someone else the entire time, or break up with that girlfriend so you both can be happy?”

Ivy looks down at her hands. “Yeah,” she mutters. “I didn’t… I didn’t really think that through.”

“No the fuck you didn’t!” Selina laughs, leaning back. She crosses her arms behind her head and settles one leg over the other. 

“Tell me, Ivy. Honestly. How long have you been feeling like this?”

“About Harley?” Ivy asks. She can feel her heart pick up its pace. “I, uh, really don’t know. I don’t think there was ever a point where I didn’t feel like this, you know? I think, maybe, it just got worse over time.” She slinks back in her chair and lets her hair fall in her face. 

“And it’s just fucking hard, like, I want to be with her. I really do. More than anything. But she’s been so fucked by people in the past- _people she trusted-_ and I don’t want to let my feelings get in the way of our friendship. I know she leans on me for certain things, just like I lean on her. Selina, I really don’t want to fuck that up for her. And maybe, I don’t want to fuck things up for me, either.”

Selina says nothing for a moment, and then reaches toward her iced coffee again. She takes a long sip from her cup, and when she’s done, she says, “You know, Harley and I have coffee here every week or so.”

Ivy raises both of her eyebrows, her interest piqued. “I didn’t know that.”

She didn’t.

“Yep,” Selina says casually, popping the ‘p’. “Sometimes, we talk about you. Well,” Selina laughs. “She’s the one who brings you up. I just sit and listen.”

Ivy narrows her eyes, not understanding what Selina is getting at. “So… I mean, what does she say?” Selina grins mischievously.

“You know, Ivy, for such an anti-social asshole, you’d think you’d have great listening skills. I meant it when I said you both are fucking idiots.”

Ivy stops to consider her words, and when she does, her heart stops. _‘You both’? Both of us? What is she saying?_ Selina smiles again, but wider.

“Ivy, Jesus. You look like you’re about to explode. Don’t hurt yourself,” Selina laughs, standing up from her seat. “Remember what I told you. Be honest with Harley. I can promise you that she’ll appreciate it.” 

Before Ivy can respond, Selina is walking past her and heading towards the door. She stops and turns before she grabs the handle, turning back to Ivy.

“And Ivy?”

  
“Yeah?”

Selina smiles softly, genuinely this time. “You’re not gonna fuck it up.” And then she’s gone.

* * *

Ivy breaks up with Chuck the very next day.

But instead of crying, or yelling or any kind of fighting, Chuck just smiles sadly at Ivy as she carefully places her engagement ring back in his wide hands.

“It’s Harley, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice wavering as he tries to hold back tears. Ivy looks down at her shoes and nods slowly.

“I think… I think it always has been Harley,” she says softly. Chuck nods and pulls Ivy into an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Ivy says, pressing her face into his chest. She can feel tears welling up in her eyes and a sob begins to shake through her body. Chuck brings a hand up to the back of her head and strokes her hair as Ivy, as silently as she can, cries. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to… I don’t mean to-”

“Pam,” he says, pulling back to look Ivy in the eye. “Don’t be sorry,” he says, his lips tilting up slightly. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. I think, maybe, I’ve always kind of known, but never wanted to accept it. And yeah, being hurt hurts, but who am I to stand in the way of love? I love you, Pam, and I want you to be happy. And if being with me isn’t going to make you the happiest, well…” he trails off, and looks away sucking in a breath. 

He turns back to Ivy, and she can see that the tears in his eyes have started to flow down his cheeks. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

Ivy smiles, whole and genuine, as relief and gratitude wash through her body at once. “Thank you, Chuck,” she says, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”

Chuck smiles. “You don’t have to thank me. Now,” he says, straightening himself up. “How are you going to get the girl?”

* * *

They’re fresh from a heist. Harley had been anxious to get her hands on a new Xbox headset, and in the process, decided to rob the bank down the street and steal 1.5 million dollars from the Wayne-Tech vault in the back room.

  
King Shark took care of the security systems, Clayface took care of getting civilians out of the building before violence broke out, Psycho took care of the cameras, and Harley took care of the guards- careful not to hurt any civilian before they were able to run out through the exit.

Ivy- well. She was just along for the ride.

She loves seeing Harley during a heist, with her face flushed from adrenaline and her eyes wide and bright. She loves seeing Harley at her peak, having fun and lighting up the entire building with her beautiful smile.

Her favorite part, though, is when they finally get back to the lair, and Harley gives Ivy that smile that she knows is only reserved for her. That soft, shy smile she gives Ivy when she stands close and looks up at her to ask if she had fun. If she wanted to get ice cream. If she wanted to roll around in the stolen money with her.

After a usual heist, Ivy would normally laugh and smile back, telling Harley that yes, she did have a good time. That she would get ice cream with her later, when police activity around the city had settled down. That no, she didn’t want to roll around in stolen money because it was dirty and she didn’t know where it had been.

Tonight, though, the question is different.

The crew is cheering and laughing as they spread throughout the lair, yelling over each other as they talk about their favorite part of the heist. Psycho is pocketing as much of the money from the duffle bag as his pockets allow, King Shark is opening the fridge for a snack, and Clayface is attempting an impression of one of the security guards with a southern accent. The mood in the room is light, and everyone seems to be happy.

Before Ivy can sit down, though, Harley grabs her gently by the arm. 

“Can I talk to you for sec, Ives?” she asks, biting her lip. Ivy’s heart skips a beat.

“Yeah, Harls,” Ivy replies, letting Harley drag her away. Harley guides her outside on one of the balconies of the lair, overlooking the evening sunset over Gotham’s skyline. The air warm and the sun is setting prettily over Harley’s blonde hair.

Harley stops near the edge of the balcony and turns to Ivy. She takes a few steps closer to her until they’re barely a few inches apart, and finally, Harley looks up into Ivy’s eyes and smiles that special, shy smile for her.

“Are you okay?”

Ivy blinks for a moment, and then offers a hesitant smile back. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Why? Are you?” she retorts. Harley’s smile slips a bit.

“I dunno, Ives. I guess… you just seem a bit different lately, you know?” Harley says, unmoving from the small space between them. Ivy swallows thickly.

“How do you mean?” she asks, trying to read Harley’s face.

“Well, you just seem… nervous. Jumpy? I don’t know. But Ives, I don’t know if it’s me or not. Like, all of a sudden, you don’t seem to really wanna do the things we normally do. I know you’re not a part of the crew but you’re usually read to jump in and have some fun yourself. But tonight, you didn’t. Or, like a few weeks ago, how we went out to tan, but you kind of freaked out when I put lotion on your back. Or when I was fucking around with you when you walked in on me working out. Or how you’ve been kind of weird about cuddling with me.” Harley sighs, stepping back a bit.

“Look, I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, let alone deal with. I know what it’s like to be associated with me in this city. And I know I’m kinda fuckin’ annoying. But Ives, please just tell me. If you want me to change or dial back on the crime, I will. You know I will for you. But I just need you to tell me…”

But Ivy’s not listening anymore. Instead, she’s staring at Harley’s lips and how the fullness of them move with every word she says. She’s enchanted by the way her eyes look in the sunset, reflecting reds and oranges and shining baby blue. She’s flustered by the pink of Harley’s cheeks as she works herself up, growing redder and redder by the second. Ivy finds her resolve slipping into nothing.

“No,” Ivy finds herself blurting out. Harley’s mouth hangs open for a second before shutting tightly, urging Ivy to continue. She signs and runs a hand through her hair, steeling herself.

“Harls, you… you haven’t done anything wrong. I promise. I think we’re at the point now where I could just tell you something and we’ll both be able to work it out,” Ivy says, offering Harley a soft smile. 

To her relief, Harley seems to relax, the tense of her shoulders releasing as she offers a smile of her own back to Ivy. Ivy sucks in another breath.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been, you know weird or whatever the past couple of weeks. I’ve…” Ivy trails off, not knowing how to continue. “I just… Harley, I-”

“I’ve been flirting with you,” Harley blurts suddenly, effectively disrupting any train of thought that Ivy had. “I’ve been flirting with you. For the past few weeks. I think, maybe, you’ve picked up on it. And I think that’s what’s making you uncomfortable.”

Ivy feels her eyes go wide. Whatever she was expecting, this was certainly not it.

Harley’s cheeks are bright pink and her eyes are purposely avoiding Ivy’s as she continues, “I’ve been doing it, uh, on purpose too? I’m sorry. I was when you caught me working out that one time, and when I made dinner for the crew a few weeks ago, and when-”

But Ivy isn’t paying attention, not anymore. All she can think is, _she was flirting with me. This entire time. She was flirting with me this entire time and she’s telling me she might feel the same way now this is the green light that I needed and if I don’t kiss her right now I think I’m going to-_

Ivy’s hands move faster than her mouth can.

She grabs Harley’s wrists and pulls her flush against her body. Harley squeaks at the motion and looks up at Ivy, her eyelashes fluttering under Ivy’s gaze. 

“What-”

“I love you,” Ivy says softly, and Harley’s breath audibly hitches. “I’ve been acting weird because I love you and you’ve been driving me fucking crazy, and for months I thought I couldn’t do anything about it. So,” Ivy breathes, pulling Harley impossibly closer, “I’d like to kiss you, now. If that’s okay with you.”

Harley’s face breaks out into a blinding smile before she presses herself up to meet Ivy. “I thought you would _never_ ask.”

Ivy feels the world around her collapse when Harley’s lips meet hers. She feels a rush of heat pulse through her while her body goes weak, melting into Harley’s firm grasp on the small of her back. She can feel Harley’s smile as she opens her mouth slightly, tilting her head for a better angle. Harley lets out a small gasp and moves her hand to tangle in Ivy’s hair, pulling slightly as she breathes out a sign against Ivy’s lips. Ivy groans at the sensation and pushes further into Harley, feeling like she might slip away entirely if Harley lets go.

When they both break for air, Harley erupts into a fit of giggles as Ivy holds her tighter, tighter, _tighter_ , smiling into Harley like she’s just seen the sun for the first time.

“I love you, too,” Harley finally whispers, and Ivy’s head spins faster than she can process those words. She pulls Harley back into another kiss and feels, for the first time, _love._


End file.
